The sound of the key pushing into its slot in the handle of the door wasn’t one you could muffle. As you turned the handle, you did your best to quench nerves with a slow breath, unsure of whether or not another man would be behind the door. That thought alone made you nervous, but you pushed past it as you step inside. Your gaze was trained downwards and for a moment, you thought you were in the clear for just a little bit longer.

“Oh, hey! I’m John. John MacTavish. Everyone calls me Soap"